Nuclear Throne: Brother of the King
by Noah Wright
Summary: SPOILERS ABOUND-Join the crew and their ascent to the throne. A long-lost elder, the brother of the Proto-Mutant, returns to the Wasteland. A Queen will rise to unite the Desert and a hero will walk the streets of Athens again. Explanations for characters will be attempted, including their opinions, pasts, 'n hobbies. Ideally, I'll update this every 6 days. Please review, it helps!
1. Chapter 1

"Let's just call it a quits. No one is defeating Lil' Hunter today," Melting mumbled. His flesh slowly dripped over his exposed jaw. More muscle slid over his other eye and he fell over into a deep slumber.

"Normally, I'm quick to disagree with you, Melting, but today I think you're right," Fish replied, watching Plant limp towards a plump maggot carcass. Vines tiredly spread through the desert soil, the creature stretched, then dove maw-first into the fresh kill. Everyone kept to themselves, like usual. Crystal sat polishing her robust forearm. Eyes toyed with his pet maggot. Rebel stared across the darkened horizon. Chicken sat quietly near the TV. Steroids was perched on his tree trunk, heavily invested in a novel he never seemed to finish. Rogue tinkered with her bulky Blast Armor. Yung Venuz spat money out of his mouth, watching the bills flutter to the blue sand. Robot's optical sensor glowed a light red, inactive. Near Fish was Horror, who idly levitated in sphere form. And as he watched the group, Fish realized this was what they always did. Every night. Suddenly he became conscious of the chords of his own guitar playing. He looked down to see his own hands methodically strumming against the labored strings! Shocked, Fish dropped the guitar, breaking an odd silence with a hollow thump. The mutants stopped and looked at him, as if he had broken some law that still bound their post-apocalyptic world together. Robot came back online, Eyes let his maggot squiggle away, Plant looked from his meal, and Horror splashed back into his normal shape.

"What's up, Fish?" Crystal demanded. She looked at him quizzically.

"I think we should have a campfire story," he said solemnly, setting his guitar against his log.

Melting rolled out of his slime cocoon and sighed, "Must you drop your whole guitar just to say-"

"What about?" Steroids urged, his interest suddenly captured. Now everyone was listening, even Chicken, who had turned off the TV and rotated her whole body in slow motion to face Fish. It was his moment to shine.

"Uhh...let's...have Eyes pick tonight's," Fish stammered, smiling nervously at the blue mutant. Eyes rolled. Everyone knew he couldn't speak, but only see. The group figured Fish had just said something silly, and they all returned to their routines. Maybe he was just acting dumb, Fish thought. But as he involuntarily reached for his guitar, he said, "Wait. I have something to tell you all."

"It's just a story I have. Not sure if it's as interesting as your book, Steroids," he looked at the mass of muscle. Steroids didn't reply. He just set his book down.

"Well anything is more interesting than these tapes," chirped Chicken. "I've seem each about fifty times or more."

"And I guess I didn't need that sleep anyway," yawned Melting. He rubbed his eye sockets with a dripping palm. "We'll probably just wake up early tomorrow."

"Does Robot have data of this story?" Robot inquired.

"I don't believe so, friend, It is one I made sure no one knew until now."

"This should be rich," hummed Yung Venuz, vacuuming up his currency. He scurried near the campfire and sat down next to Crystal. "Lights, got a fire, camera, we ain't got one, Action. Begin. Now."

Fish stared deeply into the fire, a new silence encaptured them all. "Now Crystal, you were the first mutant of this group to join me," he began softly, "And I know I never told you, but there was a mutant with me before I brought you here. It was never that important, so I might as well tell you all about him now. He was an elder from a farming clan. As I raced along the desert trail one day, I saw a group of bandits raiding his group. I watched as they unleashed a scorpion pack upon the territory. Usually I would just run and take the long way to the sewers, but something had to be done, and maybe the clan would help me along my journey. So I pulled my revolver from my holster and-"

"Which clan was this?" Rebel asked. She was known for having the strangest questions. It stirred Fish how frugal the ex-bandit could be with few words. Some of the mutants looked at her strangely, wondering what she meant and why she stopped Fish's tale.

"I believe it was the clan of Fire Bear," Fish said casually, not really sure himself. Rebel was glad her wrappings concealed her astonished face. Could this elder be the phantom her allied spies had told her about? Fish went on.

"As I was saying, I decided to flank the raiding party. There were five scorpions and about eight bandits hanging around a line of prisoners. A big bandit rose out of the ground as well, and ordered the executions to begin.

I entered the fray and managed to kill the scorpions wreaking havoc, but when I rolled to the villagers, all but one was dead. The old man. I rolled away from the leader's barrage of fire when it saw me, but then the man suddenly held a staff. Before I could wonder how he kept it so well hidden, he began fighting off his executioners and their boss. I watched this master work his craft, as he dodged their scopes and swept them off their feet. His staff was edged with some sort of red paint and it stained their garbs, but I thought nothing of it then. It only took about two minutes for him to stun 'em all. He approached me, reconcealing his weapon. The man's face wasn't wrinkly...it was actually smooth from the winds." I closed my astonished mouth shut and asked him about the paint.

He said, "That is a pheromone that will attract the maggots. They will ignore my people. We must leave now, the bandits will return in great magnitude." Suddenly a large portal opened in front of us, showing no point of destination and we were sucked in without choice. The portal transported us to another part of the desert, except much closer to the sewers. This is why I tell you all to kill every enemy you see. The portals will open for you. It is much faster than walking the entire trail.

We were not successful in finding the Throne, as he was no mutant, though we've gotten farther than any of us have ever reached. Cutting our losses, we retreated down the trail and struck up a camp here."

Fish slid off his log and snuggled into the light sand. He was happy to have changed the course of the night. What would they have done without him?

"I don't know if you realize this," Rogue began. "But that story isn't over. Where is that kickass warrior elder now and what happened to him?"

"Robot agrees," concurred Robot. "There is no end to this data log for Robot to cognize. But he seems 'kickass' as well."

"Well," Fish sat up again, burrowing half of his body in the sand. "It's pretty late and I think sleep would-". He blinked twice, staring at the barrel pointed at his skull.

"Please continue, Fish," said Rebel, held her revolver steady. Two allies ran up to join her. "Continue to lie to us. You killed the man. Didn't you? You killed the Savior Phantom. Where is he buried? You fool, he is the brother of the great Proto Mutant that once lived!"

"But I didn't kill him!" Fish implored. "I swear, the man just went off one day and I never saw him again." The group stood there growing tense, wondering when would be the right time to disarm Rebel and her posse. Never before had a mutant quarrel ever gotten to an accusation at gunpoint. They were all better than that. But no one knew what to expect from Rebel.

Suddenly the fire blew out and Rebel shot at Fish in a panic. He groaned and then there was a brief silence. Another voice rumbled.

"I shall finish the fish mutant's story, for I am the Savior. And your fire. And, you're all in danger. I'd rather we not have questions, we have a long day ahead."

"Perfect," sighed Melting.


	2. Chapter 2

"An exemplar of genius, Administrator," the commander's eyes gleamed through his visor. He nervously adjusted a shoulder strap on his azure-colored vest.

"It is, isn't it?" the tall, white-faced figure stroked his ashen beard. "You see, by using our portals to tie the Wasteland together, we will stop the mutants before they even reach the Sewers! Maybe if we're lucky that rogue rat will go down with 'em. Make sure you retrieve any part of her armor you can." Then he paused and looked down at the man, his eyes piercing through the polarized silver of commander's helmet. In a low voice he asked, "In case any of them do reach the Palace, commander, is the Throne still corrupted?"

"It killed off five of our officers the last time we made an inspection, sir," the soldier calmly kept deep-rooted spite from spoiling his tone. He had heard stories of the Administrator's ability to read thoughts from minor inflections alone. The Administrator noticed this effort. He liked this man.

Administrator cackled, smacking the desk with his hand. "Good work, BQ", he breathed, "we have no possible way to be overrun. Signal your troops to link up the city and begin the assault on the Desert. Both the mutants and that traitor are top priorities."

"Right away, my lord," the Inspector briskly retreated down the corridor. Administrator drifted to his window, an observatory where could he smile down at his city. The sun was just beginning to set over the crystalline lake. Its synthesized waters held liquid nutrients and antibiotics for the city's inhabitants, partly contributing to the world's best quality of life.

He was securing the existence of his people for generations to come. Order. This must be a constant. These other-dimensional mutants could gain access to his portal network, and thus invade his world. No, he must keep his sovereign strong and vigilant. For the good of his people. Then again, he had no proof of any mutant that could enter his portals. No scientist nor officer had ever informed him thus. The ex-officer had never even tried to return. But worlds weren't maintained on the basis of proof. No. Safety was derived from predictions of chaos. He overflowed with pride whenever he remembered the intelligence system that once protected the Wasteland. Now its central core was in tatters, leaving its world ripe for disorder. It had fallen to the ultimate predator, its people. Administrator out-performed a short-circuited computer that now worked for him. Indeed, to him, there was no finer honor.

The blue sleeves of the man snaked down to a ice box and retrieved a bottle of crystal water. He took a long swig. As my city sleeps, my soldiers win wars. Such beauty comes from this.

•••

"You refuse to advance," the Shielder rumbled to the bandit family. A light sandstorm had been brewing for a while now, caking everyone in the Desert's powder.

"We saw the flames on that hill," one whimpered.

"The Savior Phantom has returned to the Desert," another chimed.

"You said all you saw was a fire, maggots," the Shielder roared, waving two Grunts to his side. "And you expect me to believe there is a phantom out there? There are no ghosts in this land. Either you step in line with the battalion as we requested or these two can dispatch of you rejects."

"Of course, you wouldn't know of this being," responded the third bandit, her voice gritty from desert fumes. "In a world teeming with mutations in every organism, you interdimensional raiders have not yet realized that there can be monsters of any form. If we are dispatched here, we are likely to see you as soon as you find the mutants. The Savior will not hesitate before he swallows you all in flames."

"Get rid of them," the Shielder mumbled to the Grunts, stomping towards his battalion. The bandits were a force to be reckoned with, and the man was glad the IDPD didn't have to fight them. But he always had the strangest experiences with these people. They were resolute warriors, but routinely required a push to dispose of anxieties fostered by ceasefire. He was told by the gene specialists that this year's crop of Bandits would be more resolute and less cautious. And have better aim.

The invasion force had organized in each village center, his being the closest to a suspected mutant camp on the hill facing them. Amongst the sand clouds, he could make out the Ravens, Alligators, and Crystal Spiders. Several rats wheezed from the wind-blown sand. A large pack of Fire Salamanders were just rising from their slumbers and stretching out their shiny, black bodies. Five Snowbots loaded missile shells into a groggy Big Dog devouring a pile of maggots. This world seemed to birth a pestilence which fed on the death it yielded, a convoluted cycle of its natural order. Was it so ludicrous then, to think that such an environment could produce ghosts and demons?

Don't think of this. Every mutant would be slaughtered. Simple arithmetic. At the stratagem meeting, every commander was sure nothing could go astray. He grabbed his shield generators and strapped them to his vest. Rapidly, he flipped the switch a few times, testing the power. The prism was quite durable, he checked, knocking hard against it from the inside. Light winds from the sand had nearly diminished. Squadron lines were already forming at the base of the rocky dune. It was time.

A ray of sunlight broke through the darkened clouds behind them, lightly pointing towards their destination. It was true; reports from the closest villages had described a large flame that shot skyward just a night before. Coincidentally however, Administrator had been planning this attack for months. There were only so many mutants left, thought the Shielder. In all the years the IDPD occupied the Wasteland, there was no better day to finish them off. Within the chaos that had brought the seven regions together, the Shielder could still see his city at the end of this battle. Walking close to his fellow commandos, they boldly strode to the front lines.

•••

Rogue launched herself at Rebel, and Steroids grabbed both the allies. Robot, Chicken, Crystal, and Plant surrounded Fish. In the darkness, they could still spot the revolver wound, cutting deep into the right side of his neck. The bullet seemed to find a easy entry through the central gill. Fish wheezed slightly, with an abrupt halt.

"It has entered his windpipe," Robot said aloud.

"Eyes and Horror," Crystal yelled over her shoulder, "go look for any medpacks. We're certainly going to need it." Eyes hopped onto Horror, now in Dog form. The two ran down the rocky hillside, out of sight.

"But, Crystal," Melting murmured, "aren't you going to ask about that voice? We all know that no one here spoke when it did."

"Robot, you make the incision," Crystal continued to focus on Fish, her dearest friend. "Plant, hold him down and daze him with a poison. The medkit should heal him completely. What was that, Melting? The voice? Does that really matter right now, you glob," she growled at him harshly.

"It really does matter," the voice sounded again, making Crystal's shoulders rise. Melting knew now that she was both fearful and incensed, a combination that made his body melt faster just thinking about it. She whipped around and stomped on the ashes of the campfire.

"Wherever you are and whoever you are," she bellowed, "leave us alone. I don't care who you are, just go away."

"Crysta-", Rebel began.

"What?!" She demanded. "What could you possibly have to say to me? To any of us?"

"Please move your foot away from the head, love," the voice stated flatly. It had a raspy quality to it, a lifetime spent in the sand. "That's all." Crystal obeyed, staring at the black pile of soot she had churned from her outburst. Suddenly, the pile exploded, sending them all flying towards the ends of camp. From the pile now sprouted a tower of flame. It waved gently in the sky. And then it collapsed, and as it did, the fire seemed to take shape as it burned out. Even the wounded Fish watched the spectacle, too intoxicated to care very much. "Shiny," he breathed.

When the fire burned down, a small, glowing figure walked from where the fire had been. Then Fish widened his eyes at the being. Its face was smooth, and he was adorned from head to toe in ancient tunics. In his right hand, he grappled a blackened cane that reflected off his light. This man was a spirit. The spirit. Chicken ran in front of Fish and planted herself firmly between the two, chicken sword drawn. Even if Fish was honest, the sprite could still be harboring some sort of hostility towards him. Rebel was the first who fell to the ground in front of the spirit. "Praise the legends of time. You are our savior, you are the change, and," she said this phrase while laughing, "you truly were our fire."

"The thoughts are sweet, but I am no savior," he smiled at her, "that is just the folklore, voicing your logic for you. I am just a simple mutant, really."

"How can we just believe you?" Y.V. called to him. "What can you do?" At that moment, Horror leaped onto the hilltop with Eyes, holding the ex-Guardian tightly. Riding Horror was never fun.

"Did you find any packs, guys?" Crystal asked. But everyone knew they came back empty handed.

"I did tell you I wasn't your savior, Rebel," the glowing man glanced at the her. "But I never said I wasn't a ghost. This is my ability, gun god." His body metamorphosed into a fire which snaked through the sand, towards Fish. Chicken swung at the spirit as it approached, but it still passed. Plant released Fish, unsure if it would help to attack the mutant he trusted most. The group watched Fish's motionless body. His eyes twitched slightly, and when he opened them, his pupils shone like stars. Fish's arm reached towards the small incision and steadily stuck two claws inside and felt for the bullet. Slowly, he contracted, pulling a shiny pellet from the gill. His fellow mutants showed varying signs of disgust and amazement. Eyes fainted from both. YV's eye twinkled, "At least, _**he** _knows I'm a gun god."

Fish moved slowly upright then sat, facing them. "He feels no pain," the spirit assured them. "My ability allows me to absorb his damage as if it was my own body with the bullet wound," he noticed that they followed every word and smiled at the dust. Looking around at the small enclosure of their camp, he said, "He and I spent years together here. When he rescued me, he was very young. But I could tell he needed rescuing of his own. He needed someone there to reassure and comfort him with hope. That's partly why so many of you were so lucky to be helped by him. And I realize many of you came and joined him on your own accord. While conjoined with that fire, I watched you all, I know your names, your personalities, everything about you. And not because it was unbelievably boring to be a couple of burning logs for four years, no, because I wanted to get to know my family. I know many of you have questions, but they must be queued. We have a busy schedule." The sun peaked over the desert horizon. A single beam of sunlight spread through the opening of the eastern wall and painted the western entrance.

"But what about the danger…." Melting soft voice trailed off. He was still just as bamboozled as the rest of them.

"A camp can be made anywhere, right?", he asked them rhetorically. "Good. Because we need to get away from here. As I speak, legions of your worst rivals gather at the base of the camp."

"I...I completely understand that you're a ghost," Chicken began, "but how could you possibly know about this?"

"What?" Fish's forehead wrinkled quizzically. "Can't you hear that?" The group listened...and for a while no one heard anything remotely suspicious. A windy morning sandstorm was now making its rounds through the Desert. Sand ran along the walls of their enclosure, making a light whooshing sound. But through the wind, the sound of portals rang up to them. But many of them couldn't be phased by fear after meeting a mutant ghost.

"Instead of you teleporting to them, today they…", the phantom knew he didn't have to finish that conclusion. There was no time. "Our only chance is to divide their forces. There are several caves in the summits west of here. Rebel come with me and Fish, we'll revive him later."

"No," Crystal softly interjected, "she can't go with him."

"Crystal," the body of Fish responded, "don't let this be personal for you. I need you with Melting and Rogue." Glancing at Rebel, he said, "she won't have her crosshairs on him again, I promise you this.

Addressing the rest of them, he said, "Alright, now Chicken and Steroids, you'll have Eyes with you, and make sure he's informed. YV, Horror, Robot, and Plant, since you're the biggest team, we'll need you to prey on them the most. Pull out all the stops. Traps, flanking, feel for your inner-bandit. Is this all clear?"

"But ghost!" Steroids exclaimed, "what is your name?"

"Ah yes, and I do know all of yours," he smiled. "Fish always called me Apollo. He was a fan of pre-Apocalyptic myths and I reminded him of the sun god. I suppose you can too. Now, I need Melting's group for the last step. Everyone else find the furthest cave you can that faces this hill. I will call on you all again, and I'm sure you'll know the sign." Without question or word spoken the two teams left, running down the sandstone corridor leading to the mountains. The remaining six watched as Chicken waved and followed the rest of them out.

"Now," he turned back to Melting. "We need to buffet them a bit. And I hear you're not too shabby with the explosives." From the sandstone corridor facing the east, they heard a large rumble, followed by the roar of a Big Dog and the war calls of a thousand bandits. But even above that was the hiss of the Crystal Spiders.

"Plant's maggots!" Rogue suddenly shouted. "Apollo and Rebel get out now. We've got all this covered." They both quickly sprinted out.

"Y'know, Rogue" Melting was barely audible in the rushing noise of the invasion. "The ground beneath us is full of the maggots. The blast radius I'll make is gonna kill us."

"Then thank, Apollo," Crystal said, "for setting up the teams so nicely." She enlarged herself and grabbed Melting, engulfing him. Rogue smiled at Crystal, but it was more of a grimace. She switched on her blast shield and they quickly fled the enclosure.


	3. Chapter 3

Along a thin ridge, four Allies rushed to meet Rebel. Melting's mass cadaver detonation had kicked up a large cloud of sand and flesh that rained from above into the desert basin. The four of them hadn't spotted him, Crystal, or Rogue. Too much debris. But it was obvious the invasion force had retreated behind the cratered hill. It was partly due to the chaotic explosion, but mostly to wait out another sandstorm defending the base of the mountain range. The group rounded the top of the ridge, spun on their feet and continued up the other side. This peak was the highest climb, while giving a safe and strategic outlook on the Desert stage. The other mutants were scattered among various caves, but the scouts hadn't found any trace of them. This was a good sign. Any track they could find, any Alligator or Rat could too.

Each one of the Allies were deadly warriors that used to be well-respected bandits. But when the IDPD began to occupy the Desert-Scrapyard border, they left their tribes. And they weren't the only four who had joined Rebel. It was rumored that she had hundreds of people in her pocket. Not literally of course. She was a charismatic guide, but also an enigma. She could easily assume command of the bandit unrest and effectively retake the Desert. It would have prevented the invasion. Despite all this, she kept her allegiance to these mutants who seemed to be growing less and less effective at defending the desert. But the Allies loved their idol too much to question her plans.

Silently they sprinted along the rocks, not requiring words to navigate as one body. Four pairs of feet padded at the same time, same foot, same stance, regardless of height or weight. Silence was always required to be a spy in the Wastelands. The first Ally turned again at the end of the ridge, just in time to have a long staff connect with her skull. The three others heard the crack. The tallest one hopped onto the ridge above, seizing the head of the Assassin. The second one grabbed the lifeless body of the first before it fell off the bluff. The third took aim at the skull and shot the assassin. The tallest one simply tossed this body off the bluff.

Quiet once again. Three pairs of feet . One pair scurried out of rhythm. The tall one, carrying the corpse over his shoulder, was in the middle. One walked in front and another walked behind. Allies were not heroes. It wouldn't matter how much Rebel appreciated them. Their lives would never stop slipping through her fingers. But each one knew their hand assisted her in achieving the impossible. Unity in the Wasteland.


End file.
